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And a Slothful Child Shall Lead Them

from The Pottsville Conglomerate by Pete Davis

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At least two of the songs on this album borrow their titles from lines of religious damnation from TV shows. This is one of them.

lyrics

Pushing up from underneath the ground
Everyone started digging through the leaves
Pound on your chest ‘til you get it back
Hopeless, hopeless, nothing's coming out

When the tide made a choice to drag
Whatever it could up to the shore
Oh, it all started here underneath your spent muscles
And when we saw, we knew right what you had done
(Sleep my angel child)

Built a tower to the sky, oh, with each great stone I lie
Oh the frozen gates
(Carried on the waves)
Cold your penance paves
Onto another weary stay
I know, I know it must be hard with only strangers at the door
Well I'm your only family now
Always watching you

One to another we will fill all the planks and beams
As though the stars were fashioned just for us
And you take the light on your face,
Oh it makes what you're made of, and it takes, and it takes
Simple structure, everything yields the right way
You'll notice the shape, the dress on your shoulder blades

(Forgive us, brothers,
Forgive us, children
Solemn plans we've best yet to lay
Run, run, children, best misbehave
You left, gone out too far
We stayed, we wait and wait)

Brush your hair gently to the back, down the stairs, all the lights go out
Gently, though the water washes up to shore, it carries with us
The slate and stone, the slag and smoke, the smelted ore, the burning coal

Timber taller as it grows, shedding cycles of its life's creation,
Oh, how far the fall, how deep down dark the river flows, it's coming out

Let the tidal wave crash down and wash over you
I can see it, I've been meaning now for our fondest dreams
(There is a river of blood)

True the shape underneath your dress
Carved from something we could never make
Built up from nothing, formed to resemble,
So we've hewn and shaved, whittled away
Oh, what a mess, a mess we've made
(And your shoulder blades
Floating on your grave)

And it beckons to you now, but you don't listen,
Oh, painful though it seems, the selfish bees, so naive the queen
(There is meaning in this)
And you, down on your knees, harried by these,
Carrying on only to free yourself from the drinking well
So cover your eyes again
Poor child

There is an ocean beneath the ground
There is a beast within us all
There is a place inside my heart
Where it's all coming out

Oh, our heathen ways have run us under
And the storm is gathering now
Above us all, oh is it nature
Tearing back its ugly skin?

Timber tall as it grows, I think you know the truth
Forgive us children, you know what to do
With your hands tied up across your back
You can only jerk back and forth and bend up toward the light
Fills your eyes with misty haze, oh
I'll be fine, oh, I know

Dry your eyes, dry your hair, come inside
Set by the fire, blankets and candlelight
I'll be fine, come closer to me now
Here, what does it do, what can we do?

credits

from The Pottsville Conglomerate, released July 5, 2011

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Pete Davis Princeton, New Jersey

zany folk music for nerds

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